The Real Enemy
by Becca Stareyes
Summary: Long Feng during the siege of Ba Sing Sei.


Long Feng wanted a good night's sleep, but he had to settle for a cup of tea gone cold and a few soggy dumplings that he had left at his desk when the latest crisis meant his lunch was cut short. He ate them standing, still in his dusty uniform. A few food stains wouldn't make that much difference to the uniform's unkemptness; he would be changing soon.

He skimmed the few messages that had been left at his desk this afternoon. They were going to lose the Lower Ring, the question was when. Oh, the generals assured him their engineers could section off the part of the agrarian zone that the Fire Nation army had poured into like a red tide; Long Feng was enough of an earthbender to follow their plans, even if he'd never had to move such quantities of soil and stone. It would slow the advance and keep the enemy from spreading out to circle the Inner Wall.

But they had already lost cropland and would lose more to the army's need to clear the ground; food prices would spike again. Most of the farm workers were Lower Ring residents. They couldn't help but notice when some of their cropland and pasture was blocked by the military, and the Information Ministry was running out of invented stories. As long as they were more afraid of the Dai Li than the War, they would stay in line.

But he'd spent time in the Lower Ring today, defusing protests and rounding up troublemakers. He'd even had to tap into the city's granaries and pass along bags of rice to his merchant contacts in the Middle Ring so the price of rice would fall. It would settle the masses, until the food shortages got worse, or Iroh's army broke free of the earthworks to assault the Inner Wall. General Iroh was proving to be a canny man; he would know how to use the fear and anger of the Lower Ring residents as a weapon as deadly as fire and arrows.

"Sir?" One of his minders, the cadre of mostly women who officially were clerks and unofficially watched merchants and nobles who needed a delicate touch, was at the door. She was dressed and made up according to her station, moving like she was born to the job. "It's nearly time."

Long Feng nodded. "Thank you." He finished the tea, and quickly moved to wash and change into a clean formal uniform. The Earth King was entertaining tonight, and Long Feng couldn't send just anyone to supervise. A look in the mirror had him take an extra minute to borrow some cosmetics from the woman who had given him his reminder, just enough to lessen the dark cirlces under his eyes. Kuei might assume that lack of sleep was just part of the job for the Grand Secretariat; some of his guests were not so sheltered.

He cataloged Kuei's guests now, as he entered the more public wings of the palace, places designed to create the image of eternity, a continuity as lasting as stone. He moved among the guests like a lizard-crow among songbirds, noting scraps of information rather than scraps of food. It was not perfect - too many knew to school their faces when they visited the palace, especially when Long Feng was passing by - but even a mask was a source of information. Who was unafraid; either the bliss of total ignorance or the cocky sureness of those who thought they could ride out the storm, or even use it to their advantage. And who was pretending to be unafraid, but still had the same dark circles and frown lines that were Long Feng's own constant companions.

He had his own mask, one of unafraid competence. Some of the nobles - men and women who had seen no reason to acknowledge a war that would never affect them - deliberately made a point to come up to him, to ask veiled questions and received reassuring answers. The more skilled merchants - and any merchant able to draw the eyes of those in the Upper Ring were usually quite good at their jobs - asked the same questions, couched in terms of business and trade routes. They wanted to know that the city still stood, and this was as minor a concern as bad weather. And, like bad weather, it would pass.

He found his seat beside the king when the entertainment started. Kuei looked thoughtful, and Long Feng welcomed the privilege that let him look at the king's face. Not that he needed a clear view to read the man; Long Feng had been shaping him since his birth to be open, and knew Kuei's moods better than his own.

"Haven't we seen this play before?" Kuei asked. "And I know we've had the same troop performing for the past year."

"Ba SIng Sei is a prosperous city, Your Majesty. And a center for culture. It's only natural that the best actors will gravitate to your court." Or those not alert enough to leave before the siege, or greedy enough to be bribed. It kept the king and Upper Ring soothed to have their sweets. People, poor or rich, common or noble, thrived on comfortable routine and safety. It was the foundation of Ba Sing Sei, the bedrock on which the city was built, the core principles of the Dai Li.

"But perhaps we could send to Omashu to get whatever is new there? I hate to think that they might have something exciting that we're missing by yet another staging of _Avatar Kyoshi_."

"I'll speak to the company manager." Long Feng promised. And a few contacts at the university who could put something together, and wouldn't find the contrast between the unrest of the Lower Ring and the decadence of the Upper too jarring. Most scholars were also good at ignoring dangerous truths, though he'd have the Information Ministry double check for satire and subversive messages. He made a note to also check the lesser theaters in the Middle Ring. _Kyoshi_ was a safe play, reminding people of the Dai Li's role in protecting the people of the city from the excesses of kings. But variation on a theme would be desirable.

If the Lower Ring held out long enough. If the more ruthless nobles of the Upper Ring kept their political games to a level the Dai Li could ignore. If they had ferreted out any spies and opportunists that could undermine the defenses. If the university was right about the harvest forecasts that would refill the granaries and let the siege persist.

If. If. If.

Forget a sound night's sleep; Long Feng would settle for comforting certainty of his own, rather than the state of constant, low-level fear that, despite his best efforts, Ba Sing Sei would fall while he watched.


End file.
